Ricordo's wrath. In that surmise, the detective went wide of the truth. Slips Harbeck did not mind a
period behind the bars, simply because he was thinking of The Shadow. He knew that he had been
treading dangerous ground. He was glad to get away from his predicament.
AFTER Slips Harbeck had been removed, Joe Cardona went to his office. He classified facts that he
had learned; then rested at his desk. The detective had worked since early in the morning, quizzing Slips
Harbeck. The tedium of several hours was beginning to tell. It was ten o'clock now. Cardona prepared
to leave.
A man entered the office to interrupt. Cardona found himself facing Clyde Burke, reporter on the New
York Classic. The newspaperman was the last person whom Cardona wanted to talk to at the present
moment.
'Hello, Burke,' he growled. 'I can't talk to you now. Going out to get some shut-eye.'
'Been up a while, eh?' questioned Burke. 'Who've you been grilling, Joe? Slips Harbeck?'
Cardona glared at the reporter with challenging air. Clyde Burke grinned. Cardona laughed gruffly.
'Beats me,' he said, 'how you news hounds guess things. Why don't you apply for a job on the force?
We could use some smart detectives like you.'
'Not for me, Joe,' laughed Burke. 'I can find out more without a badge than with one. What did Slips
have to say?'
'You ask me? Why didn't you come around to grill him yourself?'
'I wouldn't have minded it, Joe. But I prefer sleep during the early-morning hours.'
'Well, you slept through it then. Come around to-night. Maybe I'll have something for you.'
'The old stall. That makes it the usual story. Third degree failed — '
'Listen here, Burke.' Cardona's interruption was a challenge. 'Lay off that heavy stuff. Get me? I'm tired
out, and I'm impatient. Beat it — I'm leaving.'
'Hm-m-m.' Burke seemed thoughtful. 'Guess you did find out plenty from Slips Harbeck. Tell you what,
Joe. Suppose we make it a compromise. Just a nice story that the police are holding Slips Harbeck as a
possible suspect.'
'That's all right.'
'And in return for it' — Burke's tone was smooth—'you give me an idea of what he really did say.'
Cardona stared squarely at the reporter. He went back to his desk and motioned Burke to sit down.
Tapping thoughtfully upon the woodwork, Cardona talked terms.
'Just as I get through quizzing a prisoner,' he remarked, 'you come along and quiz me. Well, I can't
blame you. But you know what I'm up against, Burke.'
'Yes, and you know me, Joe,' returned Burke. 'You know what I'm up against. If I don't get the news,
somebody else may get it. I just want to protect myself, that's all, and I know you'll give me a break.'
'That's right. You've always played fair, Burke. Here's the terms. I'll tell you what I've found out — but
you're to keep it out of the columns. I'll count on you to bluff the rest of the news hounds after I duck out
of here. In return, you'll get a real story later on but you can't bust it until I give the word.'
'Absolutely, Joe. I've worked that way before.'
'I know you have. I never figured out why. The paper's paying you, but you use discretion — which
makes you different from every other reporter that I've ever met.'
'That's agreed,' said Burke quietly. 'Leave it all to me, Joe. I can figure why you're holding Slips
Harbeck. He knows something about these would-be murders.'
'He knows plenty.'
'And the man in back of it?'
Cardona leaned across the desk and whispered the name in Clyde Burke's ear.
'Larry Ricordo,' said the detective.
'The bird that was going to be a big shot?' questioned Burke. 'I thought he had cleared out.'
'He's come back,' asserted Cardona. 'We're going to arrest him when we find him. You see how I
stand, Burke.'
'I'm with you, Joe. A story now may mean no pinch later. No pinch means I never get the real story that
may be coming.'
'You've got it, Burke. I'm counting on you, old man. What are you going to tell the rest of the reporters
when they show up?'
'Leave that to me, Joe. All right if I stick around here a while?'
'Sure.'
'Well, the boys will be in. I'll tell them you went out long ago. No grilling — nothing. Slips Harbeck is just
another gunman.'
Cardona grinned as he rose from the desk. He shook Burke's hand, and left the office. The reporter took
the desk and called the Classic to state that there was nothing new on the case that he was covering.
OTHER reporters arrived while Burke was phoning. The Classic reporter told them the same story, and
left with the crowd. But when Burke had separated from his companions, he went directly to a cigar
store and entered a telephone booth.
It was not the Classic office which he called this time. Instead, Clyde Burke telephoned to an office in the
Badger Building, and conversed with an investment broker named Rutledge Mann. Briefly, Burke gave
the facts concerning Larry Ricordo.
Clyde Burke was smiling when he left the store. His phone call had been an answer to Cardona's
puzzlement concerning the reporter's connection with the Classic. The detective did not know that Burke,
as a reporter, was an agent of The Shadow.
Through Rutledge Mann, who served as contact man by day, as Burbank served by night, the name of
Larry Ricordo would be forwarded to The Shadow. What Cardona knew, The Shadow would know
also.
Joe Cardona had quizzed Slips Harbeck. Clyde Burke, in turn, had quizzed Joe Cardona Another of The
Shadow's agents had served his master well.
CHAPTER XIII. THE VILLAINS MOVE
LARRY RICORDO was seated in the office above Professor Folcroft Urlich's laboratory. The gang lord
was perturbed. Before him lay a copy of the New York Classic. The arrest of Slips Harbeck was
mentioned with the account of Joe Cardona's discovery of a death trap in Gardner Joyce's office.
The door opened, and Professor Urlich entered. The evil-faced scientist smiled. He had been conducting
experiments in the laboratory while Larry Ricordo had remained upstairs.
'Excellent progress,' remarked the professor, 'excellent progress, Ricordo. Do not be disgruntled
because of last night's failure. I have evolved a plan for sure success. Do you remember how Alfred
Sartain lay face upward upon the desk in his studio — '
'Ready for the end?' interjected Ricordo. 'Yes, I remember. But he didn't cash in his checks. That was
when The Shadow dropped in through the skylight. I've got plenty to worry about, professor. I'm
thinking of what's coming; not what's gone.'
The scientist's brow furrowed. Urlich noticed the newspaper in Ricordo's hands. He looked quizzically at
the gang leader.
'They've pinched Slips Harbeck,' announced Ricordo.
'Well?' inquired Urlich.
'That means trouble for me,' asserted the gang leader. 'If Slips squawks, the dicks will be on my trail.'
'And then?'
'That will mean The Shadow, too. He's wise enough to find out anything that they learn at
